


noo don't die you're so sexy aha

by CelestialIguana



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Smut, because i cannot escape fantasy, but does he top mentally, mentioned - Freeform, read to find out, seonghwa, there's magic, wooyoung tops physically, yeosang/seonghwa if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 12:16:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20209600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialIguana/pseuds/CelestialIguana
Summary: “Wooyoung!” Yeosang snaps. “Control your boyfriend! He isterrorizingmy cat!”Wooyoung attempts to disguise his snort of laughter in a choking cough, but he’s positive Yeosang heard it anyway. Choi San, the town’s resident necromancer, Wooyoung’s boyfriend, and, apparently, terrorizer of cats.Wooyoung clears his throat. “Well,” he manages, “That sounds nothing like the San I know.”He can hear Yeosang’s eye roll. “That sounds exactly like the San you know, and I expect you to take care of it before my cat literally dies and he has to fucking bring her back from the dead.”“You know he charges a high price for full resurrections?”





	noo don't die you're so sexy aha

**Author's Note:**

> This is the product of 3 am twitter my apologies
> 
> i saw [these](https://twitter.com/vixxoIogist/status/1159341911854866432) photos of wooyoung and i have no idea where they came from but it’s definitely one of the circles of hell and this is the result. disclaimer, I have no experience with how police jobs work, take none of this seriously.

Wooyoung slams the cheap landline back into the receiver with more force than it deserves, but in his defense, he’s had to listen to the jarring ringing too many times today and he’s one phone call away from committing a homicide. And he knows all to well reprecussions of murder, as is expected of the chief of police, and he doesn’t feel like serving the jail time. He’s too proud of this position and intends to keep it, as irritating as the ringing phone is.

And he’s just settling back into his chair, waiting for his shitty internet to load and contemplating the sad, lukewarm coffee disgracing his desk when the phone goes off again.

Wooyoung groans, forehead meeting the wood of his desk. WIthout looking up, he awkwardly twists his neck and scrambles to pick up the phone.

“You’ve reached the Chief of police, office hours end in exactly seven minutes, how may I help you?”

Wooyoung already knows this can’t be any kind of emergency. Those calls get directed straight to the first responders, of which Wooyoung is not. Not anymore. Those days are past. Now he sits at his desk and files reports and takes unnecessary phone calls, apparently.

“Uh, I’d like to file a complaint?” the voice on the other end says, tone rising up at the end in irritation. Wooyoung sighs. He recognizes the voice.

“Are you aware that we have listed a specific email address for complaints on our website?”

Yeosang, because  _ of course  _ it has to be Yeosang calling in a complaint to the chief of police now- Wooyoung checks his watch- five minutes to the end of his shift, inhales in a rush of static. (Wooyoung has asked  _ so many times  _ for tech improvements around the office, but it would seem that his coworkers are just content to live in the fourteenth century. Get the plague and die already, fucking losers.)

“I am aware _ ,” _ Yeosang says sharply, “but, as the problem has not been resolved, I am taking my complaint to the person who could actually fix it.”

“Yeosang, if this is something about the witch who lives next door to you singeing your lawn again, I have no jurisdiction over that-”

Even through the phone, Wooyoung can feel Yeosang’s glare. “This is not about Seonghwa, ok? 

“Everything with you is about Seonghwa-”

“Shut the fuck up, this is about Choi San.”

Wooyoung sighs, dragging himself off his desk and combing back his hair. “Choi San?”

“Yes. The necromancer.”

“My apologies, for complaints about supernatural beings I must direct you to the Supernatural Association-”

“Wooyoung!” Yeosang snaps. “Control your boyfriend! He is  _ terrorizing  _ my  _ cat _ !”

Wooyoung attempts to disguise his snort of laughter in a choking cough, but he’s positive Yeosang heard it anyway. Choi San, the town’s resident necromancer, Wooyoung’s boyfriend, and, apparently, terrorizer of cats.

Wooyoung clears his throat. “Well,” he manages, “That sounds nothing like the San I know.”

He can  _ hear  _ Yeosang’s eye roll. “That sounds exactly like the San you know, and I expect you to take care of it before my cat literally dies and he has to fucking bring her back from the dead.”

“You know he charges a high price for full resurrections?”

“Oh yeah?” Yeosang asks. “How much would he charge if I killed his boyfriend?”

Wooyoung ignores the threat in favor of pursuing the actual investigation, like any good officer. “What is he even doing to your cat?”

“Do you think I fucking know what necromancers like to do to poor, helpess pets?”

“You can always ask your witch-y neighbor for a little magical help, you know,” Wooyoung says, grinning.

“If my first words to my future husband are in reference to Choi San killing my cat, I am going to kill  _ myself,  _ and then you’re going to have to file a report for that, yeah?”

Wincing at the thought of all the paperwork that would create, Wooyoung hurries to assure Yeosang that everything will be taken care of and Choi San will be brought to justice for his terrorizing of the town’s cats. 

“He fucking better be,” Yeosang grumbles. “My cat has a sensitive constitution.”

“Like his owner?”

Yeosang hisses into the phone in a shockingly feline manner. “I’m this close to giving  _ you _ a sensitive constitution.”

Wooyoung laughs. “I’m pretty sure there’s a law somewhere discouraging threats directed at police chiefs.”

A long suffering sigh comes through in a burst of static. “Just… control your boyfriend, Wooyoung. That’s all I’m asking.”

He hangs up with a click, and Wooyoung’s smile fades as he realizes the task before him. Because Yeosang’s asking for much more than he knows. One doesn’t simply  _ control  _ Choi San. And that cat could have a lot more coming its way. 

  
  


💀💀💀

  
  


Turns out, Wooyoung doesn’t even need to track the troublesome necromancer down. He’s already in their apartment, lounging across the couch with his long legs tossed haphazardly over the arm. He looks up as Wooyoung walks in.

“Youngie!” San says, smiling broadly. (And Wooyoung’s known this man for years now, and all those years have done nothing to prevent his heart from skipping a beat everytime San smiles at him. Those dimples could murder him and he’d apologize for any inconvenience.)

He tosses his keys into the bowl they keep by the door and toes his shoes off, leaning against the wall.

San frowns, eyes flicking to the clock. “You’re late today.”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung says, doing his best to set his mouth in a stern line. It’s always hard when San stares at him with those  _ eyes. _ “Any idea why that might be?”

San looks around innocently, fingers tapping against his thigh, as if the coffee table had somehow caused Wooyoung’s late-ness. He shrugs, a casual twitch of his shoulders. “No clue.”

“I took a call from Yeosang today,” Wooyoung continues. “He’s very… concerned.” (Yeosang is always a little concerned. Maybe that witch next door could mellow him out a bit, if they ever got up the nerve to talk to each other.)

“How curious.” San coughs, attempting to tuck one leg under the other, but not before Wooyoung catches a glimpse of his jeans. 

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “There’s cat fur. On your pants.”

“What?” San says, voice a little higher than normal. “I don’t see any.” His index finger twitches almost imperceptibly, but Wooyoung has known him for too long and is intimately familiar with the necromancer’s tricks. He watches as a little wisp of black runs down San’s legs, taking all traces of fur with it.

“I saw that.”

“Saw what? Are you feeling ok? It’s been a long day, I’m sure-”

Wooyoung stalks forward and San hurriedly drops his legs from the couch, scrambling to sit up straighter, pressing back against the couch in a futile effort to buy more time. His hand grasps Wooyoung’s wrist as the latter tangles his fingers in San’s hair, tugging his head back sharply. San hisses as the sudden movement sends sparks down his spine.

“Ok, ok, listen, it was a harmless prank, the cat was literally never touched, Yeosang is just overreacting like always-”

Wooyoung grabs his chin in his free hand, stopping the tirade of words in its tracks. San closes his mouth with an audible snap. “Do you know,” Wooyoung says, eyes narrowed, “how much extra work you cause me? With these  _ harmless pranks?” _

“Ah, a small, barely noticeable amount?” San offers, breathier than usual.

“Nice try, but no.” Wooyoung drags his hands down San’s chest and climbs into his lap, resting his knees by San’s hips. San’s hands, seemingly without conscious thought, drop to Wooyoung’s waist.

“I had to stay late to take Yeosang’s call, and he’ll probably call back tomorrow and ask for updates,” Wooyoung says. He wraps his arms around San’s neck. “What should I tell him?”

San shrugs, bringing his mouth to Wooyoung’s neck and nudging his head to the side. “Whatever you want.” His breath brushes feather soft against Wooyoung’s skin. “Yeosang needs to lighten up.”

Wooyoung grins sharply. “As true as that may be, you need to at least apologize to Yeosang. He sounded quite stressed.”

The necromancer hums noncommittally into Wooyoung’s shoulder and drags his teeth over his collarbone. “I’m stressed,” he mumbles. “You should help me first.”

From his position on San’s lap Wooyoung can feel the evidence of San’s supposed  _ stress  _ pressing against him.

“You know what I think?” Wooyoung asks, and San gasps as Wooyoung suddenly grinds down on his rapidly hardening dick. “I think you should make this up to me.”

“Jung Wooyoung,” San says roughly. “You are going to be the death of me.”

“Good thing you can come back to life.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s a pleasant experience-”

Wooyoung watches as San slowly falls apart, piece by piece. “Are you sure?” He interrupts San’s complaints. “Because you seem to be having a pleasant experience right now.” He reaches down and presses the palm of his hand into San’s dick. 

“My god, Wooyoung,” San gasps, hips bucking into Wooyoung’s hand sharply. “Stop teasing and fucking kiss me already.”

Wooyoun smiles and grips the back of San’s neck firmly, preventing him from moving. “I don’t know, San, I just keep thinking of all the paperwork I have to do back at the office… ”

San’s eyes flash black for a millisecond as he squirms in Wooyoung’s hold. (And to be honest, Wooyoung loves it. He loves everything about San, but in particular he loves that the necromancer, who bends shadows with a glance and raises souls like breathing, willingly puts himself at the whim of a mere human. And the rush Wooyoung gets from that is indescribable.) 

“Come on, Youngie, please,” San says, pupils blown out with arousal, hips stuttering beneath Wooyoung’s legs. And who is Wooyoung to refuse.

He’s still smiling as he drags San’s lips to his, hand still firmly holding the back of his head and controlling the kiss. San whines into his mouth, lips easily parting against his. Wooyoung traces his tongue over his abnormally sharp teeth, languidly taking everything San has to give. San nips at Wooyoung’s bottom lip and sparks of pain burn through Wooyoung’s chest like a million fiery butterflies. San’s fingers press bruises into his hips. (Wooyoung is positive marks will bloom like so many purple flowers over his skin in the morning, but he can’t bring himself to care, not when San is gasping so prettily under him.)

Wooyoung breaks the kiss, winding his fingers through San’s dark hair and tugging him away. San runs his tongue over his lips, swollen red and glistening. He pants lightly, eyes dark. (Sometimes Wooyoung can’t tell whether San’s eyes go black from magic or arousal, but it’s dangerously hot all the same.)

“Am I not paying you enough attention?” Wooyoung asks, fake sweetness dripping from his voice. He jerks San’s head back by the hair, doing his best to ignore the way his cheekbones and jawline cut shadows in his pale face. “Is that why you’re causing trouble?”

San blinks a few times, arousal and pain addling his thoughts. “I,” he starts, hesitantly, breathily. “No, I just-” He breaks off into a quiet moan as Wooyoung tightens his grip.

“What was that?”

San’s legs twitch beneath him and his hands flex on Wooyoung’s waist. It’s a hell of a power trip, knowing that he could flip their positions in a heartbeat, and yet doesn’t, and it makes the rising heat in Wooyoung’s chest burn higher. “I don’t know why,” San manages, haltingly. And then, belatedly, “Sorry?”

Wooyoung hums, hips moving in slow, steady circles, providing pressure and heat but never the friction San wants so badly. “That doesn’t cut it, baby.”

Beneath him, San looks ready to explode, a pretty blush painted over his high cheeks. “Just- come  _ on,  _ Youngie, fuck be, please-”

His voice dissolves into a low groan as Wooyoung slips a hand past his waistband and palms his dick with rough strokes. 

“I just did so much work, how can you expect me to fuck you right now?”

San moans, more of a whimper than a moan really, but that’s splitting hairs. What matters is that Wooyoung is the cause of the sound, and it does something to his dick. When San speaks it’s hard to make out the words through his faint gasps.

“You- you don’t have to do anything, I can-” his voice breaks as Wooyoung presses his thumb into his slit, fingers tight around the head. “I can ride you.”

“You can,” Wooyoung says, and before he can get out the rest of the sentence San surges from his slumped position on the couch, muscles tensing in a show of strength that Wooyoung, for all his training, can’t even begin to compete with. He finds their positions reversed in a heartbeat, San’s fingers deftly unzipping his pants.

Wooyoung grabs San’s wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “I didn’t finish.”

“Yeah, but I heard everything I wanted to hear-”

San coughs lightly around the sudden intrusion of Wooyoung’s fingers in his mouth, pressing down on his tongue, and he glares sullenly. (But silently.)

“You can ride me,” Wooyoung continues, as if nothing had happened, ignoring the wet heat around his fingers, “But can you apologize to Yeosang?”

San’s glare shifts to something better resembling exasperation and sharp teeth nip into Wooyoung’s fingers. Wooyoung removes his hand, smearing a streak of spit down San’s jaw. (And as irritated as San appears as the events unfold, the image he projects is beautiful.)

Mouth now free, San takes the initiative and ignores Wooyoung, ripping his wrist of of his hold with ease and choosing to continue his pursuit of dick instead. Wooyoung should appreciate his determination, but it’s hard to think around the sudden onslaught of pleasure assaulting his senses, courtesy of San’s long fingers wrapped around his cock.

“We can talk about Yeosang and his stupid fucking cat later,” San mumbles, and somehow he found the time to grab lube from somewhere, because his hand is slick around Wooyoung’s dick. He uses his other hand to ruck Wooyoung’s shirt up his chest, fingers stroking over flat planes. “Right now I want you.”   
  


Wooyoung does his utmost best to form words but his mind is overwhelmed with the sight of San reaching behind himself, wrist moving in quick, determined motions. Wooyoung prefers to be the one to prep him, but it seems that San can’t wait. “San,” he gasps out, and he catches the savage smile that flits over the necromancer’s lips in hearing his name fall from Wooyoung’s mouth, something dark and predatory (something Wooyoung’s addicted to just as much as San’s submission, because life is all about balance, in the end).

“San, stop.” And he’s biting back moans but he still manages to weave the desired tone of command through his voice, and it’s enough to make San hesitate. Wooyoung stares him down, unwavering in the face of those black, black eyes. San lowers his eyes slightly. And the smallest motion conveys more than enough.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Wooyoung says, steady around the burning in his chest, “and then you’re going to apologize to Yeosang.”

A heartbeat of silence. Then San nods.

“And his cat.” Just because Wooyoung likes to test San’s limits and also because he’s a little bit of a bitch.

A low sound works its way from San’s throat, something akin to a growl, but he nods anyway, lips pressed together tightly as if in an effort to prevent unwise words from spilling out.

But Wooyoung doesn’t want silent acceptance. “I want to hear you,” he says, with a smile sharp enough to rival San’s, and San huffs but obeys. 

“Yes, I will apologize to Yeosang and his bitch ass cat.” He leans forward on Wooyoung’s lap and drags his teeth over his neck, darkness in his eyes and smile, and it’s a tantalizing reminder of exactly  _ what  _ Wooyoung has before him.

“But only if you fuck me right now, because I’ve been ready for  _ ages  _ now.”

Wooyoung manages a weak laugh between panting breaths, brought forth under San’s tongue and hand. “It has literally been-” and he knew the exact time before, but San’s hand is cruel on his dick and everything gets a bit too much, so what comes out is, “-not that long, I’m sure.” 

It’s a weak attempt, and the smirk on San’s lips says that he knows it, too. 

But San has a hand around his dick and is already rising up on his knees, every pale line of his body accentuated by the dim lighting, and then he sinks down with a gasp and Wooyoung no longer cares who pretends to be in control. 

It’s overwhelming. San never stretches himself enough because he likes the burn. In the sudden heat, Wooyoung finds himself concentrating on the little things. The way San’s skin burns against his at all their points of contact, of which there are infinitely many. The way he clenches tight around Wooyoung and moans breathlessly. The way his hair falls in wet spikes over his dark eyes. The way he somehow smells like night and darkness and everything the moon brings with it. 

(San is an intoxicating combination of danger and something else _ .  _ Something  _ not.  _ Sometimes dark and sometimes light but always blinding, whether in shadow or starlight, and Wooyoung is addicted. He can’t say he misses the long hours of his original police job, but the current desk position lacks the sharp bursts of adrenaline spiking through his blood. And it would be wrong to say that San is a replacement, but it would also be incorrect to assume the deadly glow in the necromancer’s eyes hadn’t factored into Wooyoung’s decision making. Because three years later, San’s eyes still make appearances in his dreams.)

Wooyoung is jolted out of his thoughts by San cursing quietly, lifting himself up on Wooyoung’s dick and grinding down hard, moans escaping his open mouth with each cruel twist of his hips.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he says, more air than articulation, but his weaping dick and nails digging into Wooyoung’s hips clarify any confusion. The fire burning in his core seems ready to explode at San’s words, but Wooyoung refuses to come before he does. (It’s a matter of pride and it’s a matter of selfishness; Wooyoung wants to watch as San comes apart at the seams.) Everything fades out and all Wooyoung knows is the slick sounds of warm heat and the friction sliding so wonderfully against him. 

San pinches one of Wooyoung’s nipples between two fingers, knowing all too well which buttons to press to make the man under him gasp helplessly. The sudden shock of pain does nothing except make Wooyoung’s dick twitch inside San, and by the look on his face, he can feel it.

It somehow still surprises Wooyoung, even though it shouldn’t at this stage in their relationship, that San possess the capabilites necessary to fuck himself on Wooyoung’s dick like he does, relentlessly and with… well, supernatural endurance. His thighs aren’t even beginning to shake. Wooyoung, with the few brain cells he has left, watches as San’s stomach flexes with each movement.

He thrusts his hips up hard into San, surprising him enough to make his hips sutter out of rhythm with a moan.

“Oh my god, Wooyoung-” His voice rasps darkly in Wooyoung’s ears, and it’s getting to be too much, the heat and sound and friction.

Without warning, San clenches hard around Wooyoung and digs his nails into his shoulder, scratching lines down his back. He throws his head back as he comes across Wooyoung’s chest. Unable to resist the temptation of his exposed neck, Wooyoung sucks dark marks along San’s jawline and collarbone. (The marks will disappear faster than the ones adorning Wooyoung’s skin, but, for a short time at least, Wooyoung can admire them.)

Somehow having already regained the capacity to move, even though Wooyoung’s still vibrating out of his skin with the need to come, San drops to his knees between Wooyoung’s legs, smiling at him with dimples on full display. It’s an odd sight, sweat slicked hair streaking into eyes still dark with arousal, but it does something to Wooyoung’s heart. And his dick.

Which San takes care of with a cruel hand, sliding up and down and twisting at the head. Wooyoung can’t stop the noises ripping from his throat but at this point he’s too far gone and much too close to be worrying about trite things like that.

“Come for me,” San says, a cheesy line that Wooyoung hates but San says anyway, probably for that exact reason, and he’s unable to disobey. He spills over San’s hand, biting into the palm of his hand to prevent an almost-scream from escaping his throat, but the hand doesn’t stop the gasp that slips out when San sucks his come covered fingers into his mouth. He licks them clean, grinning up at Wooyoung.

“I hate when you say that,” Wooyoung pants, still breathless.

“Obviously not as much as you want to.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. He can never win.

So instead he pulls himself up from the couch, something they’re definitely going to have to do  _ something  _ about at some point, and manages to find a damp cloth to clean them both up.

And as Wooyoung comes down from his high and catches his breath, he realizes he never actually solved the mystery. 

“What were you doing with Yeosang’s cat?”

San looks a little crestfallen, like he’d been hoping the matter had been forgotten.

“Nothing illegal,” he hedges, managing to look pitiful even with mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips and the smell of sex permeating the room. 

Wooyoung frowned. “That sounds even worse.”

“What if I told you it paid for my services?”

“I’d tell you that assisting and accepting money from potential unregistered talking animals is strongly discouraged, and have to inform Yeosang about laws preventing the ownership of one as a pet-“

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” 

Wooyoung narrows his eyes. “You’re trying to distract me.”

A smile slips over San’s face, reaching his eyes and killing Wooyoung a little more. “Is it working?”

Wooyoung attempts the best “Not at all,” that he can. He thinks he did pretty well, considering the circumstances. 

“I was doing Yeosang a favor, ok,” San finally says. “He loves that cat, I was trying to convince the thing to take a nap on Seonghwa’s porch.”

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow skeptically. “You were trying to  _ convince  _ the cat?”

A shrug. “As one does.”

“How?” Wooyoung’s almost scared to know the answer. 

“Uh…” San hesitates, quite obviously trying to hide a sharp smile behind a suitably apologetic facade. “There may have been some undead mice involved.” Wooyoung inhaled but the necromancer steamrolled on. “It would’ve succeeded! If Yeosang hadn’t been so quick to come looking for his stupid cat, he would’ve found it on that witch’s porch and they could’ve hooked up!”

“I cannot fucking believe you’re reanimating dead mice to try to get Yeosang laid.”

San raised his chin in defiance. “I can’t believe you’re mad at me for it.”

Wooyoung snorts in an effort to hide his laugh. Grinning, blindingly-white sharp teeth on display, San snaps his fingers. Dusty ribbons of grey smoke twist into a rodent-like shape and the magic follows the movements of San’s fingers into a grotesque approximation of a dance across the coffee table. 

“Shut up,” Wooyoung laughs, slapping San’s hand down. The smoke mouse disappears in a puff of black. 

“I didn’t say anything?”

And Wooyoung’s leaning in to kiss his idiot necromancer when a sudden buzzing vibration interrupts him.

Wooyoung throws his phone across the room. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> wow this became super fluffy at the end i don’t know how that happened. side note i live for yeosang and his witch-y boyfriend seonghwa. 
> 
> have a lovely day


End file.
